aid finally.
"I know them all, and there's none like that. The rest of your dream may
come true, but not that about the flag. Come, let's be walking back to
Arbigland."

Although John Paul's father came of peaceful farmer and fisher folk who
lived about Solway Firth, his mother had been a "Highland lassie,"
descended from one of the fighting clans in the Grampian Hills. The boy
had much of the Highlander's love of wild adventure, and found it hard
to live the simple life of the fishing village. The sea appealed to him,
and he much preferred it to the small Scotch parish school. His family
were poor, and as soon as he was able he was set to steering fishing
yawls and hauling lines. At twelve he was as sturdy and capable as most
boys at twenty.

Many men in Arbigland had heard John Paul beg his father to let him
cross the Solway to the port of Whitehaven and ship on some vessel bound
for America, where his older brother William had found a new home. But
his father saw no opening for his younger son in such a life. All the
way back to town that afternoon the boy told Lieutenant Pearson of his
great desire, and the young officer said he would try to help him.

The boy's chance, however, came in another way. A few days later it
chanced that Mr. James Younger, a big ship-owner, was on the
landing-place of Arbigland when some of the villagers caught sight of a
small fishing yawl beating up against a stiff northeast squall, trying
to gain the shelter of the little tidal-creek that formed the harbor of
the town.

Mr. Younger looked long at the boat and then shook his head. "I don't
think she'll do it," he said dubiously.

Yet the boat came on, and he could soon see that the only crew were a
man and a boy. The boy was steering, handling the sheets and giving
orders, while the man simply sat on the gunwale to trim the boat.

"Who's the boy?" asked the ship-owner.

"John Paul," said a bystander. "That's his father there."

Mr. Younger looked at the man pointed out, who was standing near, and
who did not seem to be in the least alarmed. "Are you the lad's father?"
he asked.

The man looked up and nodded. "Yes, that's my boy John conning the
boat," said he. "He'll fetch her in. This isn't much of a squall for
him!"

The father spoke with truth. The boy handled his small craft with such
skill that he soon had her alongside the wharf. As soon as John Paul had
landed Mr. Younger stepped up to the father and asked to be intr